The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1887-09-29

asked. ga pack Of lies, rll be bound The
truth amt in her; no, it amt. Now you git
| up to the cabin, miss, an mind Laty. I'm
goin' to tell yer pa on ye, an you'll see
what you'll git then"
"My pdul" cried Lib. "Jack Lane dint
my pap, an you Eysosc it."
"Sass-box!" was all the answer the wo-
man vouchsafed to this outburst from Lib.
/ stayed three weeks in Jack Lanes
cabin, for it was the only habitation within
two miles of the place, and in those three
weeks l saw enough to convince me that
poor Lib had not told "a pack of lies'' in
| describing her sufferings. Her life with the
Lanes was a hard one. They were malic-
| iously and wilfully cruel to her. More than
once did l intercede to save her from the
cruelty of Jack and Mandy Lane.
| Her devotion to baby Latham did not win
| from his parents any corresponding kind
ness for Lib, his willing slave. Ioften met
her carrying the heavy baby around in her
weak arms on the mountain trails.
| "We have real good times when we're of
by our two Selves" Lib said to me one day.
1--WE talk to each other sol Pm goin' to
make man of Laty some day; he amt goin'
to be like the things there are round here.
He's goin' to have schoolin', an go out
'mong decent folks, an Be somebody in the
world. Amt he purity when he's fixed upr'
He was ''fxed up" that day. He had on
a new pink calico dress, cIumsily made, and
a long-sleeved white apron. His hands and
| face were clean, his yellow hair lay in what
Lib called tumble curl'' on top of his
head. l had never seen him looking so
pretty before. LIB had twined wreath of
mountain flowers around his head, and
| pinned bunch of them in front of his coarse
white apron.
| When the time came for me to go away,
Lib followed me far down the dusty road,
| unmindful of 'Mandy's shrilly uttered COM
mands to ''come right straight back"
| "You had better not go too far, Lib"
said, when we had walked about half mile
''Mandy will be so severe with you"
so, well, what if she is!" asked Lib,
YEARLY; but her voice had none of its old
defiant ring, and her bright eyes were red
and downcast.
~ should be sorry to have you suffer on
my account" said.
20, don't mind it, but reckon pll go
back now; Laty might need ne. Jest
thought I'd like to 60 piece with you.
been thinkin' bout that little girl o. yourn
to-day, an thought I'd kind o. like Is send
her somethin'. I've got it in this little box.
1t amt much of anything, but mebbe she'll
| like it, comm so fer like''
| Lib held out small, fiat pasteboard box
In it was bunch of pressed mountain
| flowers, tied together with bit of faded
green ribbon-Lib's one treasured bit of
feminine tinery.
"Well, goodbye, misterp she said.
| you've took more notice of me than most
folks takes, an 1 won't fergit ye; an I'll
try to remember some o. the things you've
said bout me bein' patient an good, an all
that. They'll do to tell Laty some day. l
reckon Pm bout as good as I'll ever be-.
This amt much of place fer folks to grow
decent in. If any thing should ever happen
to Laty, I'd run away from here"
Ny heart ached for the forlorn little
creature, as 1 watched her climbing the
mountains in her rags. while l held in my
hand the one poor possession she valued
most.
Ny business took me to small mining
camp, five miles distant, where was to
remain for month. 1t was the first of
December before l could set day for my
| departure. 1 intended starting on the
third. On the afternoon of the second,
signs of storm were seen in the low-hang-
ing clouds that hid the snow-covered noun
tain peaks. The snow lay smooth and
white on all the mountain sides, and it was
feared that another fall would make the
mountain roads impossible.
watched with dismay that gathering
storm on the afternoon of the third. By
three O'Clock it was showing fast; the short
day was nearly done: it was growing dark
in the narrow gulch; the wind moaned up
and down the long, black canons; the
stunted pines bent low; the mountains
seemed frowning down on the helpless lit
tie mining camp, and the snow fell faster
| and faster.
sat by the window of the Office in the
little mountain hotel and watched the day.
light disappear. By four o'clock it was
gone and the storm had increased.
"It's darker'n stack o. black cats, an
the winds blowin' a reg'lar cyclone" said
the landlord. at nine o'clock.
At ten o'clock he and / sat alone by the
Office stove. The wind had gone down a
little and it had stopped showing Twas
waiting TO hear the conclusion of a "yarn"
the garrulous landlord was telling me.
"An' SIR" he was saying, ''if you'll
b'leeve me, that thar ole cattymount jist
natchelly riz up an'-great Scotland! did ye
hear thatp.
He jumped to his feet and stood still, in a
listening attitude.
"What is iti'' asked, eagerly; ~ did
not,-
''Sh-sh-sh I'' he held his red and calloused
hand up as sign Of silence, and tip-toed
gently toward the door. Sharp and clear
arose prolonged cry as of one in pain.
Somebody's in troublei" cried the land
lord, as he hurriedly thrust a lighted candle
into his lantern, threw on his great coat of
buffalo-skins and started for the door,
/ followed him, pulling on my overcoat
and mittens as l went. We had taken but
few steps from the door when the cry
was repeated. could not tell from whence
1t came, but my companions sense Of hear
ing was more acute and better trained than
mine.
'It's from the Red Mountain trail" he
said, San the person that's doin' the yell
in is gittin' mighty weak"
Very weak, indeed, was the person whose
pitiful cry we had heard. We found her
half-buried in great drift of snow far up
the mountain side. As we bent over her
the rays of the lantern fell across the thin,
pale face of Elizabeth Dill-thinner than
ever, and paler from the suffering she had
endured that night
She had fallen PROSTATE and was too
much exhausted to rise. A ragged old
cloak was wrapped around her and a thin
shawl had fallen from her tangled yellow
hair. A lantern lay by her side, but its
light was out
She could not speak until we had carried
her down to the little hotel and chafed her
chilled form for long time. Her first
words were: "Jack Lane-'Mandy! Git a
doctor an go to them. Let me be. Go to
them an to Laty. He's all alone. Poor
little feller! Poor Jack! Poor 'Mandyr'